My Heart Burns
by MirielOfGisborne
Summary: Years after the sack of Erebor, Prince Thorin and the Dwarves exiled from the Lonely Mountain are making a meagre living in Dunland. Burdened by responsibilities and saddened by the suffering of his people, Thorin is experiencing some self-doubt over his abilities as a leader. Fortunately, his special friend, Nyrath, son of Nyr, is there to give him a nudge in the right direction.


**This is a bit different from the usual Hobbit fan fic out there.**

**It's a Thorin/OC fic, but the OC is male. I'll admit right here and now that I don't do very well with Thorin/female (O)C because I feel "a fierce and jealous love" for His Majesty****. So, this is slash, everybody! The main fan fic project I'm working on is a Thorin/Bilbo (Bagginshield) series called _Forget and Forgive_, which you can find by looking at my profile, if you wish, and the idea of a male OC came to me while wondering what else may have happened in Thorin's love life before Bilbo, and what other experiences may have shaped his relationship with Bilbo as I describe it in said series.**

**Enter Nyrath, son of Nyr, hot and noble Dwarf in his own right, and a match for Prince Thorin of Erebor in more ways than one.** ***wink***

**_I hope you enjoy the story and I would love comments, if you have any! Thanks!_  
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**Art:**

The cover is made by my friend Juno (Cora-Dilcoroc on deviantArt), who gifted me with a beautiful drawing of Nyrath a while ago. Do look her up! Her art is unique and amazing!

**Disclaimers:**

The names of 'Nyrath' and 'Nyr' are taken from stanza 12 of the _Voluspo_, part 1 of the _Poetic Edda_, which is where Tolkien himself borrowed the names of his Dwarves from. If you have a look, you'll notice that the name 'Thorin' appears in the same stanza

Thorin and any reference to events, locations and characters from Tolkien's Middle Earth and the film adaptations by Peter Jackson belong to their respective owners.

Nyrath, son of Nyr (c) 2014 MirielOfGisborne

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><p>It was a wretched winter evening in Dunland, and Nyrath, son of Nyr walked with jaded steps through the muddy streets of the city of Men where he and the remaining Dwarves of the devastated Kingdom under the Mountain now made their meagre living. Like many of the able-bodied males of his race, including those in the royal family, Nyrath worked in the forge, striking at his anvil from dawn to dusk, fashioning whatever tools the Men asked for. It was not the life that he had expected to have as a son to the commander of Erebor's Royal Guards, yet he had no choice but to take it and live it.<p>

He had to admit that he felt slightly more fatigued than on previous evenings. Waking even earlier than usual to join King Thror in the making of battle plans for the retaking of Moria was beginning to take its toll, but he could have never been too tired to see Prince Thorin. And that night, after a few nights of absence, he planned to do just that.

Nyrath willed more briskness into his step and soon reached the small hall at the back of an inn where the Dwarf women had been allowed to set up a canteen to feed their people, in exchange for work around the kitchen. It was already late and there were few tables still occupied. Nyrath looked around until he caught glimpse of Princess Dis, Thorin's young and spirited sister, who had remained spirited in spite of everything that she had lost. She was also quite beautiful, especially when she smiled the way she did now as she welcomed Nyrath. It was a bright, mischievous smile that always made his heart feel lighter, even after a long day as the one that was just drawing to a close. He approached her, returning the smile in similar fashion. Her eyes of an amaranthine blue, very much like Thorin's, were an appeasing sight for his own, sore from the soggy dimness of what Men called a forge.

"My Lady," said Nyrath, bowing his head as he sat down at a table. "How are you tonight?"

"I am well, thank you," said Dis, placing a bowl of something a bit too clear in front of Nyrath, some bread, and a pint of ale. "I'm afraid it's not much tonight," she continued with a compassionate curl of her lips. "Thorin was never overly fond of food, but now it's impossible for me to imagine what he survives on. Clearly, it's something else," said Dis with only a slight arching of her eyebrows. She did not have to put a lot of effort into her tone or into the expression of her face for the teasing to be obvious.

Nyrath smirked subtly and tested the contents of his bowl with his spoon. "Must be," he replied, looking up at Dis and sustaining her gaze.

The playful spark in her eyes died down as she shifted on her feet and crossed her arms, sighing. "He was so very gloomy tonight," she said, her voice breaking, "I thought it would start to rain the moment he walked in here."

Nyrath smiled at her, taking a sip of his broth. It was not too bad. "He has a lot on his mind, and rightfully so," he said. "We're not doing very well here, and we go to war in a week. It would make anyone in his position gloomy." Dis nodded, seemingly seeing the sense behind his words. "Do you really have nothing that I can take up to his room?"

"I'll check the pantry," said Dis with a little wink and walked away.

Nyrath ate his dinner, admittedly a bit light for a Dwarf of his impressive stature. At least the ale was what he expected it to be, and he emptied his pint as Dis returned with a small bundle in her hands.

He stood up and she gave him the bundle. "It's a little bread and some cold meat that I managed to find," she said.

"It'll do," replied Nyrath with a reassuring smile. "Thank you for dinner, as always."

"I do what I can," she said, squeezing his arm. Then, the teasing sparkle returned in her eyes. "Have a good night."

Nyrath nodded in thanks, then bowed his head again for goodbye. He walked away, feeling revived even if he could not say that his meal had been particularly satisfying. He was still a little hungry, and still a bit worn out, but Dis's company had been as refreshing as always. She was the only one who knew about what he and Thorin shared in private, and he had to admit that it was comforting to be able to confide in someone, even if he had not much anxiety about it himself. But he knew all that troubled Thorin, and how deeply it went, and how much he needed something to take his mind off the pain that he carried with him constantly. Dis knew all that as well.

Nyrath walked out into the freezing drizzle and hurried to his lodgings. Thorin was in the same house, but at an upper storey. It was not much of a home to go back to, but it did not matter. None of it mattered as long as he knew that, at the end of the day, he would be with Thorin.

Nyrath reached his room in what seemed like less than one breath. He bathed quickly and changed into something clean, then stepped out and stealthily made his way to Thorin's bedroom. Finally finding himself in front of Thorin's door, he breathed deeply, savouring the thought of everything that waited for him inside. He emptied his mind of the day's unpleasantness and his hand pressed down on the handle feeling as if he was about to step into a magic realm. The room was warm and welcoming, as always, even if it was poor. Thorin stood royally over the hearth, his arms crossed over his chest, looking deep into the fire. He did not acknowledge Nyrath's presence by turning to greet him, but Nyrath did not hold that against him. He stepped inside, locking the door behind him, and placed the bundle of food that Dis had given to him on the nightstand near the bed. Then he finally walked towards the beauty and the brilliance that stood tall in the proud shape of Thorin II of Erebor.

"You're brooding, Your Highness," said Nyrath, putting his arms around Thorin's waist.

"I am not brooding," grumbled Thorin, appropriately flustered. "I am thinking."

Nyrath smiled at this very characteristic answer from the Prince. He kissed his clothed shoulder, and then allowed his head to rest on Thorin's shoulder blade. The broad sturdiness of it made Nyrath feel that not everything was lost as long as Thorin was there. "I've brought you something to eat," he said. "Dis raided the pantry for you."

"I am not hungry," said Thorin, making an effort to infuse at least a little gratitude into his gruff tone.

"In case you are, later, know that it's there," said Nyrath, raising his head. He lifted his right hand from Thorin's waist to brush a wave of hair from the side of his face. As he did so, he noticed that one of his ear cuffs was missing. It was an especially valuable cuff, given to him by his mother, with precious stones mounted into the gold work. "You've lost your mother's cuff," gasped Nyrath.

"I have not lost it," answered Thorin, gruffness turning into pain. "I have given it to a woman whose children are starving."

"I see," said Nyrath, feeling a twinge of grief stabbing at his own heart. He would have wanted to take Thorin in his arms and hold him close to his chest and tell him in caresses instead of words that a day would come when the Dwarves of Erebor would come back into their own. But he knew that he had to restrain such impulses and try to deal with Thorin's heartache on his own terms. "Is that what you're thinking about?" he asked.

Thorin sighed deeply. "We have to do better for our people. This will not do."

Nyrath could not keep his hand from hovering over the curve of Thorin's head. Eventually, he allowed it to descend and run down through his dark, luscious hair. "We will, Thorin, we will," said Nyrath, trying to put as much confidence into his voice as there was, simply, comfort.

Thorin received his caress easily, as if he had been hoping for it, against himself. "I do not know how," he spoke under his breath, "and I am not sure that I can be what they need me to be."

"They need you to be brave, and strong," reassured Nyrath "You are that already. You always have been, and you always will be."

Thorin finally turned to face him. He still looked burdened, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. Nyrath was grateful to finally be able to see his face properly for the first time that day. They had met in the early morning to discuss plans for the retaking of Moria, with the King and everyone else who was competent, but it was much better when they were alone together. That was when he could truly look upon Thorin as freely as he wanted. The Prince was very handsome, even with his beard shorn, and Nyrath found it impossible not to lose himself in the blue depths of his eyes, softened by a tender sadness that he did not allow many people to see.

"You did not tell her about us, did you?" asked Thorin. "My sister."

Nyrath hesitated, knowing that his reply would not answer Thorin's real question. At least he did not have to lie to keep Thorin unaware that his sister knew of their arrangement, as it was best. "No, of course not," he said, not about to volunteer the information that the clever Princess Dis had put the pieces of the puzzle together herself, and that Nyrath himself had not offered any denial.

Thorin nodded and looked down. His eyebrows converged again into a frown that looked painful. It seemed that this would be one of those nights when he needed coaxing.

"What else is bothering you, Thorin?" asked Nyrath, taking him by the hand.

Thorin enclosed his hand into both of his and brought it up to his lips, in a gesture that sent a new current of bittersweet pain through Nyrath's chest. The kiss was infinitely soft, but the words that followed broke through Thorin's voice like the bloody shards of a shattered sword. "I do not want you to die."

Nyrath puffed, feigning consternation. "Why would I die?"

Thorin raised an anguished gaze to him. "We are going into battle. Many of us will not return."

"You trust me that little with an axe?" teased Nyrath, with mock offence.

Thorin glared a little. "That is not what I mean."

Nyrath knew very well what Thorin meant. He meant that, between the two of them, one was more expendable than the other. "I will have you know that I am not in the least worried about you," Nyrath continued to jest. Thorin glared more fiercely. "I know what you mean, Thorin, but we are warriors. Death is part of the bargain for us, and we do not get to choose when it comes," he said, caressing Thorin's cheek with his thumb. "And if I have to defend you, I will do so to the death." He looked deep and steadfast into Thorin's eyes until he saw them reel back, unwilling.

"So will-" he began.

But Nyrath hushed him promptly. "No. You must not do the same for me. You have to live, Thorin, and do better for our people."

The Prince would have never denied the truth of his first duty, which was not to his own wishes, but to the needs of his people. Still, there seemed to be something else which could not be buried in silence. "But I," Thorin hesitated, "I love you."

Nyrath felt as if his lungs had stopped working all of a sudden. He had known for a while that these words would be uttered sometime along the line. He could feel them brewing within himself and within Thorin, rising closer to the surface as they continued their intimate association. It had started out as merely satisfying a whim of youth, but it had not stayed that way, in spite of their good reason. And now that Thorin himself had spoken the three words that changed everything for a Dwarf and that could only be spoken once in a lifetime, Nyrath understood that there was no more need for pretence. He exhaled finally, and smiled, brushing the back of his hand against his lover's warm face. There was no use for anything other than play between him and Thorin. A king had to secure his line and marry a daughter of a noble house.

Yet, there was only one reply that Nyrath could offer. "I love you, too," he said, quietly, the weight of his own words almost crushing his throat. "But you will have to let me go, if it comes to that."

Tears slowly welled up in Thorin's eyes.

"However, we do not have to think about that until it happens," said Nyrath, trying to regain the playful tone that he usually assumed when they were alone. "If it happens." Thorin's eyes glowed warmly and he looked ever more resplendent as the wind raged outside, cold and wet. "Besides," continued Nyrath, "I am here now, and you are much too beautiful to be sad on a night like this."

"I am not beautiful. I am not… whole," said Thorin, bringing his gaze and his tone to a sad low.

"You're whole where it matters," said Nyrath, grinning, and slipped his hand inside the front of Thorin's trousers. "And I like your beard short. It's very… arousing", he pressed on, his lips close to Thorin's jaw, his hand stroking him gently and enjoying every second of feeling Thorin's body stirring to his touch in spite of a mind that would have preferred to keep all of that chained down in the dark.

"Don't," whispered Thorin, no longer sounding sad, but rather afraid of being overpowered. "I… cannot." His eyes closed and his eyebrows gathered in an image that contradicted his words.

"Why?" asked Nyrath, digging deeper into Thorin's trousers. "Because it will make you forget, even for a little while?"

There was no further verbal response, only a soft moan rising from the veiled agony of reason feeling its demise approaching slowly but surely under the fiery breath of desire.

"You need to forget, Thorin," said Nyrath, his mouth barely grazing the Prince's ear. "You need to let go every once in a while". He swept his hair gently away from his ear and kissed him behind it, finally letting his lips be where they had wanted to be all day.

Thorin leaned his head to the opposite direction, with another sigh of half-willing surrender forming in his chest. There was a slight flutter under the skin of his neck as he turned, as if all of the fibre in his being flared against the last glimmers of reluctance in his mind. It was hard to resist the rush of want in his young, strong body, no matter how burdened he felt by his responsibilities.

Thorin's right palm draped over the shape of Nyrath's caressing hand, hidden under by the fabric of his own trousers, then it went up the forearm, his fingers pressing slightly into its taut skin, finally accepting the pleasure that was spreading through him. Nyrath grinned as he kissed down Thorin's neck, knowing that he had him ensnared for the night.

Soon, both of Thorin's hands wrapped decidedly around his ears, bringing his head back to face him. He gave Nyrath a smouldering stare, then started a deep, intensifying kiss. It was not a violent, rushed kiss. It was more like Thorin's mouth wanted to respond in kind to the gentleness of Nyrath's hand. It was the latter's turn to feel a little insecure in his hold on his own desires. He was not there just to please Thorin. There was much that Thorin could do for him. Once free of his self-made chains, he was like a firestorm, not leaving one a choice of whether to be consumed or not, but it was a sweet, infinitely delightful firestorm that Nyrath gladly gave himself to every time.

As Thorin continued to kiss him, Nyrath interrupted his caress and brought both of his hands up on Thorin's sides, lifting his shirt. Pulling it over his head inevitably prompted them apart.

Letting his arms fall back down, Thorin gave a subtle smile, looking strangely composed. "You always make me feel as if we are going to live forever," he said, uttering every word carefully in his dark-honeyed baritone, with the faintest hint of a tease.

Nyrath watched him just as carefully. He knew better than to take for granted Thorin's mask of sobriety. "We will," he replied, winking back, and removed his own shirt.

Thorin smirked a bit and looked down. Nyrath wondered if it would have ended right then and there should he have not rekindled their embrace. It was very possible. Thorin seemed more reserved than on other nights, as if more than usual depended on giving in to his desire.

Nyrath nudged his chin back up with his fingers and gazed into his eyes. The longing was there, to give in. He pressed his lips gently against his, not demanding another kiss, but presenting Thorin with a choice. Their eyes were still locked together. The ashy blue of Thorin's irises held together by dark grey circles was so beautiful that it hurt to look so closely into them, but perhaps Thorin himself felt the same about the vibrant green of Nyrath's eyes.

Thorin's eyelids shut once more and his hands touched Nyrath again, one curled around his neck, and the other caressing his back. The kiss was renewed with added resolve, and this time it did not feel like it would be deserted so easily. Nyrath's hand slid encouragingly up Thorin's thick arm as Thorin began pushing him slowly towards his bed.

Although he was a proper match for the Prince's strength, Nyrath did nothing to oppose being pushed further down onto the bed. He shifted until he was comfortably lying on his back, his head resting on the only existing pillow, and received Thorin into his arms as he lay on top of him. Thorin began kissing his neck softly but with enough determination to seal Nyrath's confidence that he had no more coaxing to do. Thorin's hand stroked down his chest and stomach until it reached the band of his trousers. His fingers dug inside them, pressing into his hips, as if they did not have the patience to undress him first. Nyrath helped by unlacing the front of his trousers, and as soon as they were fully undone, Thorin swept away the fabric, his hand very obviously relishing the touch of firm, bare skin as it finally travelled down Nyrath's hip and thigh.

When they were both finally free of their clothes, Thorin's ardour diminished somewhat. He looked at Nyrath with a dreamy sort of gaze, as if he wanted to convince himself that it was all a fantasy, where anything was permitted.

He lowered his middle between Nyrath's thighs, and Nyrath felt Thorin's arousal brushing against his own. He grinned and wrapped his hand around both of them, winning a smile from Thorin and a look of defiance from over his regal nose. His hips tensed and he leaned his head back, seeming to savour that initial touch.

"I… do not have any," murmured Thorin, his forehead rising high until the muscles of his neck strained visibly.

"It's good that we're doing this then," said Nyrath, adding some pressure to his touch.

A shudder rippled through Thorin's body and a grin curved his lips. The idea of using the very fruit of their enjoyment of each other in order to further their union excited his raw, earthy Dwarf senses more than he would have normally shown or admitted to himself. But, at that point, admitting and giving in to his natural impulses was pleasurable in itself, and the more he had tried to subdue them before, the more gratifying it was to let go now. That was why his whole body buzzed with a mostly self-inflicted, rapidly growing intoxication. Of course, Nyrath's touch was pleasing to him, but it was more a storm of thoughts in his own mind that incited him, the thought of everything that he normally denied to himself and of everything he would get to experience in the coming moments, the deep, blazing pleasure that he would still have to control and that burned hotter as he became more aware of the effort that he would have to make to restrain himself. Nyrath knew by now what went on inside Thorin's head when they were together, and he could see it clearly in the way Thorin's muscles tensed excessively against their own need to find release, and in the way his eyes rolled hard in their sockets and his mouth opened with a slight tremor of his lower jaw, to let out a long, wavering gasp.

Watching Thorin's stoicism crumble was part of why Nyrath loved being with him in that way, but it was not a selfish satisfaction of somehow exercising power over Thorin, or of breaking his defences. It was simply the joy of seeing him happy and shedding the burdens that held him down the rest of the time. He stroked him more gently, taking mercy on Thorin's power of self-control, and giving him time to adjust to the tide of passion that was invading his body a little too fast.

Thorin seemed to relax, or at least the paralyzing buzz seemed to drain from most of his body and concentrate in the one part where it could be most useful. Drawing deep breaths, he looked down at Nyrath again, with something that was more a smile than a smirk, as he had displayed many times right after deciding that there was no turning back from his desire to make love to him. He usually applied himself to a few good seconds of studying Nyrath's face at very close range, with the feral, focused gaze of a predator assessing prey, letting his warm breath inhale the scent of his skin. This was when Nyrath often felt an almost wicked pleasure in witnessing the slow, silent, unstoppable death of the last flutters of Thorin's reluctance in the face of his growing desire to be with him. It usually got wild and shameless after that, as if Thorin's whole being wanted to forever crush the part of him that held him back. Tonight, however, felt different. Thorin felt different, less at war with himself, which was surprising in a way, as Nyrath had expected their talk of real death to spur Thorin's passion into a surging, violent flame. Instead, he seemed intent on taking his time and there was a loving glow in his eyes which Nyrath had not really seen that clearly before.

Thorin closed his eyes again, slowly, and pushed his forehead against Nyrath's, patiently accepting his caresses. Their foreheads remained glued together until Thorin moved to brush his nose against Nyrath's, and brought his lips to the upper side of his left cheek, where the double scar he still carried from the fiery inferno of Erebor's fall received a tender kiss.

Then, Thorin gently removed Nyrath's hand from its caressing errand and guided it to his lower back. Nyrath let his palms savour the hot, moistening surface of Thorin's back as he began moving against him and started a patient, but deliberately devouring kiss. Nyrath's own concerns faded at that moment. It became impossible for him to think of anything other than his and Thorin's bodies pressed together in that all-consuming embrace, which seemed to fill time and space, erasing anything before and after, and sublimating everything into that sole instant of being one. He had heard many times of lovers saying that they wanted their moments of bliss to last forever. But forever was all that he felt when he was with Thorin in that way. There was no beginning and no end that he could perceive, no boundaries that he could see. There was only them, and nothing else.

They continued to kiss and their bodies continued to move together, their hands indulging in the rich softness of each other's hair or in the sculpted firmness of each other's muscular frames. This mildly sweet rocking against one another lasted for a good, long, satisfying while, but both of them were becoming thoroughly aroused and soon that would have not been enough for either of them. As if to confirm this, Thorin rose on his hands, with another deep breath, and his head ventured up again, his lips forgetting Nyrath's as he began thrusting against him.

Nyrath smiled and swept his right hand down Thorin's neck and chest, admiring the perfection of his build and its earnest realization of the male virtues of their race, which made him look every inch like the king that he was born to be. Even as he was now, divested of any garments, armour or jewels that could have indicated his status, especially as he was now, naked and starting to glisten with sweat, his well-toned muscles kept strong by the constant striking at the anvils of Men now working to seek the ultimate reward.

Musing in this way and relishing the feeling of Thorin's vigorous member rubbing wantingly against his own, Nyrath could not stop his mind going where it was not really allowed. He could not help wanting to enjoy Thorin in that other way, by sinking deep and hard inside of him, and to see Thorin's last remaining shreds of self-control break under his actions. But it was precisely Thorin's status as a royal heir that would have made it inappropriate for him to submit to such actions. Not much heed was given by Dwarves to two men of their race engaging in an intimate relationship or to who did what, as their women were few and some simply had to look elsewhere, but matters were clearly set against being the one to be penetrated when it came to heirs of a royal line. The word repeated itself in Nyrath's mind as he kept watching the crown-worthy Prince drowning in his own pleasure, and it invaded his thoughts, turning from the longing to inflict it on Thorin into the desire to have Thorin inflict it on him.

Nyrath touched Thorin again, waking him up from his blissful delirium. Thorin looked down at him a little startled. Nyrath smiled and folded up his knees around his hips, guiding him further down between his legs. Thorin seemed overtaken by a new wave of impatience. His eyelids fluttered a little desperately and his breath somersaulted as he followed Nyrath's lead towards that last and most delightful province of their lovemaking. The look in his eyes was not announcing Nyrath's destruction in the most pleasurable of ways, but rather it was pleading for help.

"Slow, my love, slow," whispered Nyrath, taking away his hand, and continuing to stroke him gently as it settled instead on his lower back.

Nyrath tried his best to relax and keep his gaze connected with Thorin's as he nudged his way inside of him. That and the comforting hand that he ran up Thorin's high-strung right arm seemed to help smooth the edge of his impatience. And Nyrath knew that this new over-stirring of Thorin's senses did not come only to fill the void of his having censored himself before. This time, it was not a product of his hungered mind, but something very much physical, and something that added a very real possibility of danger to their coupling. Joining like that without the help of the oil that they normally used made everything feel rawer for both of them. For Thorin especially, it meant a searing pleasure that was much harder to rein in than much of what he had felt before, but also a lengthened moment of rare ecstasy if he managed it. He did, quite well, but the signs of both the effort it took and of the pleasure that he got from it were there for Nyrath to see and hear. A tremor ran through his body again, stronger than before, and a prolonged, deep moan accompanied his slow entry. Nyrath couldn't help smiling at the sight of Thorin fighting against himself over something so pleasurable and it was strange to comfort someone in the face of sheer rapture, but it was important for him to go slowly and forego the fiercer manifestation of his impulses, at least in the beginning, for the safety of both of them.

As the moment of tension passed and Thorin was finally nestled inside Nyrath's body, he smiled and settled on his elbows again. Nyrath cupped his face with both of his hands, thinking suddenly of how unbearable it would have been to never again be together with Thorin in that way.

"I lied," he said softly, as Thorin's face descended to his level. "I do worry about you." Thorin frowned a bit. "Don't die out there, you hear?"

Thorin recovered his smile. "Never while I have you to protect me," he said, caressing the side of Nyrath's face with his hand. It felt as if this time it was Thorin who was waving off the seriousness of the conversation they were having.

"Don't even... get a scratch."

"Bit much to ask," said Thorin with a scolding tilt of his head.

"It is my right to ask. You are far too precious to me," said Nyrath, looking closely into Thorin's eyes and felt his own gaze pierce them with more force than anything Thorin might have physically inflicted on him. "Do not make me hold your hand as it turns cold. Promise me that."

Thorin gazed back in a rueful kind of way that showed that he understood he absolutely had to make that promise and keep it. He nodded back, and Nyrath lunged at him with a kiss. They kissed until both of them became comfortable with being attached to one another. Nyrath to having a part of Thorin plunged deep into his own body, filling him with a sense of having something invaluable in his possession, and Thorin to having the most sensitive part of him contained blissfully in a tight, warm space inside Nyrath's body, something which Nyrath himself craved even now, when a greater craving was about to take hold.

Nyrath's hands pulled away from Thorin's face and their lips parted as Thorin began moving in slow, calculated fashion, obviously having acquired a taste for controlling every inch that he withdrew or pushed back inside. Nyrath felt the need to close his eyes and abandon himself to Thorin's whim, but he wanted to see him for as long as he could. He loved looking at Thorin while they made love, at the changing expressions of his face, shifting from a furrowing of his brow that resembled pain but that was the exact opposite of it, to a wickedly triumphant grin that persisted through the most vigorous of his thrusting, and finally to an ever-surprised explosion of bliss that caused him to open his eyes and mouth wide enough to pour out a loud groan, which he always had to silence and which always returned to claim its due, usually under the form of a powerful shiver that only faded after Nyrath had held him in his arms for a while. That night, Nyrath only saw the inkling of a grin, as he eventually closed his eyes, wanting more to just enjoy the intense, dark pleasure of having Thorin thrusting deeply and steadily into him. It lasted longer than usual and it became agonizing when Nyrath himself could not let go of the moan that was growing in his throat. When he finally found his release, it felt as if everything that he was had suddenly scattered into stardust. He soon felt Thorin positively collapsing on top of him, but he did not immediately have the strength to embrace him as he usually did. He could perceive no shiver in Thorin's body this time, however. There was only ravenous, loud heaving for air close to his ear, which continued for a while longer, until Nyrath opened his eyes again and looked at Thorin, who smiled and shifted carefully at his side.

A few minutes later, Thorin lay with his head on Nyrath's shoulder, an arm across his stomach and a leg thrown over his knees. He still breathed heavily. Nyrath caressed his forehead and Thorin looked up at him with eyes that were crystalline in spite of their mistiness. His handsome features were set into an image of serenity, as if everything was all right with the world. He smiled an ethereal kind of smile and Nyrath responded with a kiss between his soaked eyebrows.

"It's better now, isn't it?" he crooned, running his fingers through the damp hair behind Thorin's ear.

"Mhm," replied Thorin, still glowing, and snuggled more comfortably into Nyrath's arms.

Nyrath leaned his thickly bearded chin against his forehead and caressed his arm. He knew that Thorin's peaceful happiness would be short lived, and that, the next day at the latest, all of his burdens and fears would come back anew, and perhaps they would hurt even more because a night before he had been oblivious of them. For that reason, and for a few others, it was important for Thorin to feel that those moments that they shared in the privacy of his bedroom were eternal.

Nyrath continued to caress Thorin's arm and hair until he felt his breath slowing to a nice, regular pace and his head weighed heavier on his chest. Thorin had fallen asleep, and so it was time for him to go, although he wished very badly not to. However, being seen coming out of the Prince's bedroom in the morning would not have been desirable. Nyrath sighed and gently pulled away from his sleeping lover.

As he sat up, he realized that he was a bit sore, and more than a bit starving. He smiled to himself, stretching his back. The pain could be easily explained by the strain of working in the forge all day, stirred up by much more pleasurable exercise. The hunger could have been easily appeased by the bundle of food that lay on Thorin's night table, but he couldn't possibly eat that and leave Thorin to starve instead. There was no way to know that he wouldn't wake up during the night or the next morning, looking for it. Nyrath had to resign himself to the situation as it was. He reached to the blanket that was pushed to the side of the bed in a crumpled bundle and spread it over Thorin.

Then, he gathered his clothes and dressed, watching Thorin all the while. He would have preferred to stay in his bed and fall asleep next to him, instead of stealing out in the middle of the night like a thief. He did not feel like they were doing anything wrong, and neither did Thorin, at least not when it was just the two of them. But Thorin was uncomfortable sharing their relationship with everyone else, and Nyrath could not truly blame him. Secrecy was a small sacrifice to make for being with Thorin in that way. Not spending the night with him was a greater one. It had not seemed great in the beginning, and in truth, there were many sacrifices worth making in order to be with Thorin, but it was becoming harder to deny that he wanted more, that a crack had begun to form within his heart and that it grew every time he had to part from their embrace after they made love, and that he felt very, very alone the moment he closed the door of Thorin's bedroom behind him.

But there was no choice. Now fully dressed, Nyrath leaned over Thorin and gave him one final, lingering kiss on his warm temple. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered, his lips hovering over Thorin's skin longer than they had to after he had finished uttering these words.

Nyrath straightened up, eventually, and walked out of the room. His melancholy gave sudden way to a flash of remembrance going a very short way back to his recent and strangely timed conversation about death with the Prince, about his absolute refusal to ever have to hold Thorin's hand as it turned deathly cold. As his quiet steps put ever more distance between himself and Thorin, he felt his heart turn icy and his own hand was deathly cold by the time it pressed down on the handle of his bedroom door. Not surprisingly, it was chilly inside as well. He started a fire, then went to stand at his window for a while.

Outside, he noticed the beginning of that year's first fall of frozen, twinkling stars, already starting to cover the slimy ugliness of the muck filling the streets with an immaculate blanket of fresh snow. He liked the snow. It always looked to him like a fresh coat of snow, and especially the first one, made the world stop moving and turned everything quiet. Tonight he felt the same, but there was a new emotion swirling to the surface of his mind. Tonight he also felt that he himself had grown motionless, that some unnamed whirlwind within him had stopped twirling, and that some loud, shouting voices, had turned quiet.

A vision caused him to take a small, abrupt step back. He thought he saw a tinge of blood in the snow. He looked again and realized there was none. Surely, it had been nothing but a figment of his imagination, strained by a long, tiring day, or perhaps it was his blooming realization of having exchanged with Thorin confessions of feelings that he had kept hoping neither of them actually had for each other. It made everything more difficult than it already was, but there was no more denial that there was more between them than a simple trade of physical relief. Although he felt the sting of tears gathering in his throat, Nyrath smiled to himself again. He'd always been in love with Thorin's presence, just in a different way.

Nyrath looked back to his bed. It was late and it would not have been a bad idea to get some sleep. The bed appeared uninviting as he knew that there were only unpleasantly frigid sheets waiting for him there. But again, there was no other choice. Nyrath lay in his cold bed and covered himself with the thin blanket, closing his eyes and trying to think instead of the beautiful Prince Thorin and of the eternal secret that they shared.


End file.
